Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(6)

Olivia regretted leaving her coat in the car. What she wouldn’t have done for one more layer, another defense against Margot’s unflinching stare that managed to strip Olivia down and leave her feeling naked despite her sweater. She glanced down and winced. Her sweater that was covered in cat hair. Cute.

“The, um, facility manager, Chris, mentioned it at the beginning of the tour,” Olivia explained, trying to surreptitiously brush away the cat hair. “I guess you weren’t paying attention.”

Margot’s throat jerked. “Maybe I was distracted.”

Olivia ducked her chin, fighting a losing battle against the upward twitch of her lips. Distracted. That was . . . something. “You cut your hair. It looks great.”

Margot ran her fingers through her lob, causing her plaid shirt to open further and reveal more of her bare stomach. “Thanks.”

She’d dyed it darker, too, black instead of brown. It barely brushed her collar when she moved her head.

Olivia uncurled her fingers from the elephant’s tusk and dropped her hand, crossing her arms under her chest. “How’ve you been?”

Margot shrugged. “You know.” No, not really. “Fine? And you? How are you? How’ve you been?”

“How much time do you have?” Olivia joked.

Margot braced her shoulder against the wall. “So you and Brad, huh?”

Leave it to Margot to dive directly into the deep end. Never afraid of charging in headfirst. “Divorced. Last spring.”

“My condolences.” Margot’s brows rose over the black rim of her glasses. “Or congratulations? I’m never really sure what’s appropriate.”

Olivia was over the split, but talking about it usually didn’t make her laugh, not like it did now. Divorce wasn’t funny. Most people treated it like something to be ashamed of, like she should be ashamed of herself. “We, uh, we just wanted different things.”

She could say more. Start at the beginning instead of the end. She could tell Margot all about dropping out of college when Brad had suffered a football-career-ending injury. About how she’d followed him back home to Enumclaw and how they’d gotten married because he’d asked and that’s what she’d always wanted . . . right? About years spent giving and giving and giving, handing over pieces of herself until Brad had asked her for the one thing she wouldn’t give him.

But she’d rather not say all that. There was no point.

Margot was just someone Olivia used to know, and now Olivia was planning her friend’s wedding. It would be in both their best interests to keep things strictly professional.

As professional as possible when she knew exactly how to touch Margot to make her babble and beg.

“How’d you meet the groom? Brendon,” Olivia asked before Margot could pry harder.

“Elle and I, we created Oh My Stars.”

“I follow you guys on Twitter.” And Instagram, too. She’d been following Oh My Stars since its inception years ago, back when Margot had still been at UW and Olivia had only just become Mrs. Brad Taylor. “You were always interested in astrology.”

The skin between Olivia’s shoulder blades itched, a memory of Margot tracing constellations into the bare skin of Olivia’s back surfacing.

Margot nodded. “We partnered with his app, OTP, a couple years ago to add astrological compatibility to their matchmaking algorithm. Brendon introduced Elle to his sister, Darcy, and he and I became friends.”

“That sounds really great, Margot.” Olivia smiled. “It sounds like everything worked out the way you wanted.”

Like all her dreams had come true. Good for her.

Margot dropped her gaze, tracing the mosaic tile floor with the toe of her boot, expression giving nothing away. Margot had always been too good at that, locking everything up, impossible to read. Olivia had tried, God, had she tried, but every time she thought she’d figured Margot out, Margot would do something to make her second-guess everything she thought she knew. Everything she believed to be certain.

“How long have you been in Seattle?” Margot asked, changing the subject.

“Since last summer.”

Not even a year.

“There you are.” Brendon poked his head inside the room and grinned. “We were wondering where you two wandered off to.”

He stepped further into the room, Annie by his side. Elle and Darcy followed.

Margot pushed off the wall, tucking her thumbs inside her front pockets. Her black denim rode lower in the front, revealing another inch of smooth, pale skin and the barest hint of black ink curving around her hip. Olivia’s mouth ran dry. That was new. “You all set?”

“Sure are. We were thinking dinner. Maybe that Indian place we like since we’re not far from Darcy and Elle’s,” Brendon said. “Olivia, you should join us.”

Olivia blinked, long and slow, forcefully tearing her eyes from that bare expanse of skin, gaze lifting and landing on Margot’s face. A knowing smirk played at the edges of Margot’s mouth. Heat rose in Olivia’s cheeks, creeping up to her hairline, her skin likely matching the color of her burgundy beanie. She swallowed hard and smiled apologetically. “I wish I could, but I should really be going. I need to email the florist and—”

“It’s nearly seven,” Annie said, looping her arm through Brendon’s. “What are the chances the florist is going to email you back?”